


Mortal Customs

by dannywrites



Category: Minecraft (Video Game)
Genre: Eventual Fluff, M/M, Making Out, awkward gods dancing, its 1 am pls send help, my first fic yahoo
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-03-24
Updated: 2015-05-26
Packaged: 2018-03-19 09:30:56
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 5,902
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3605106
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dannywrites/pseuds/dannywrites
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In which Herobrine makes a promise, Steve attempts to outrun a skeleton's arrow, and two wanderers get down and boogie.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. The Promise

**Author's Note:**

> I'd like to dedicate this fic to all you herosteve shippers who can't find any good fic or fanart and are sick and tired of all the youtuber fanfic you find in the minecraft tags on ao3 and fanfic.net. Y'all are awesome and deserve the world.
> 
> Also, shoutout to user slingading. You seem pretty cool and a worthwhile person to talk about herobrine with. Good luck  
> with The Basics and any other irons in the fire you got going.
> 
> Edit: I fixed the tense and some other things that bothered me.

Steve was the one to break the silence between the god and himself.

“You know what I miss about my old village?”

Herobrine only glanceed up from the blade he was sharpening, the firelight highlighting the sweat on his brow. The day had been tiring for him and he finds respite in Steve’s company.

“What?”

Steve sighed almost wistfully and fell backwards into the grass. “The dances we used to hold.”

Herobrine made a noise of understanding. Steve continued, musing to the stars and his (literally) starry-eyed companion.

“They used to hold them after every good harvest. People would dress in their best clothes and let themselves cut loose after the work was done. Little kids, the village elders, EVERYONE just partied until the night was done.”

The god looked down at Steve, watching his eyes flicker between the stars. “You sound like you miss your home.”

The awe in Steve’s face receded as the past came back to him. “I suppose so.”

Steve normally didn't like to think about his past; the topic of where he came from, who he was, was something he didn't  share with too many people. Maybe he didn't consider Herobrine to be a part of those “people”. Regardless, Herobrine never asked any questions, which was good enough for both of them.

Steve tried to push down the memories of those dances. Remembering the dances and the familiar faces that came with them brought a melancholy ache to his chest. He remembered meeting his closest friends there, along with the datemates he had. He winced as he recalled them; there was Ruth, his first love, a first in several areas of his heart. There was Caroline, the shy brunette who wooed him with her knowledge of gathering dangerous fungi. There was Victor, the brash ginger who he grew to love between blows of a sword. He’d read somewhere that you could never truly understand someone until you've exchanged blows with them. Victor taught him that in *ahem* more than one department.

The miner swallowed the lump in his throat and tried to change the subject.  “Do you know if we’ll be able to go mining tomorrow?” he asked. Herobrine had a knack at knowing the safest times to go underground. With the resurgence of mobs, it was too risky to go in unfavorable conditions, even if Steve had a literal god next to him. Herobrine may be immortal, but respawning wasn't a luxury he could always afford.

Herobrine thought for a moment. “We won’t be able to go for a few more days. The storm passing over this region will make it difficult to outrun any trailing mobs,” he said, running a hand through his auburn hair. “I recommend we find something worthwhile to occupy our time while we wait out the storm, like restocking our supplies.” Steve nodded and started back to their shared shelter, Herobrine trailing not far behind him.

Steve went over to the chests and checked their supplies. Everything was in order and had been repleted no more than two days ago. If they were good on supplies, what could they do to pass the time? He voiced his concerns to the god.

“If you want,  we could remedy that homesickness you were talking about earlier. No need to go adventuring with a heavy heart.” Herobrine said, looking at Steve. Steve tilted his head quizzically and was about to respond before Herobrine answered his question.

“Your village held dances, right? What if we found some music?” Herobrine said. The god knew little about mortal customs but he knew that dancing required some sort of music. And since neither of them knew how to play an instrument...

The dumbfounded look on Steve’s face was all he needed to open a chest in front of his bed and pull out a weathered leather journal. Steve recognized the journal when Herobrine started flipping through it.

“Is that the journal I gave you for your birthday?” Steve asked, impressed by how well-kept it is. Herobrine nodded and Steve can see the beginnings of a smile on his face as he continues through his book and finds what he was looking for. ”Since I figured I know more about these realms than anyone else, I figured that I might as well record it before something unfortunate happens.” Herobrine said.

 Herobrine’s journal was full of recipes and notes; the handwriting was simple yet elegant which contrasted with the complicated lexicon he used to describe the things he observed. There were notes about mining, mobs, food, even different enchantments. Steve wondered why Herobrine hadn’t shown him the journal earlier but paid attention to the page Herobrine wanted him to see.

“You can make a jukebox out of wooden planks and a diamond,” Herobrine explained. “Then you insert a disc inside to play music.” Steve’s expression lightened. “How do we get the discs? Do villagers sell them?” he asked.

“There are only two ways to get them: one, from underground dungeons, and two, killing a creeper with a skeleton’s arrow.” Herobrine replied, his expression growing serious. Going underground would be impossible in this weather but he knew that Steve had an aversion to creepers  and skeletons. Steve's expression hardened into something pensive.

“Skeleton’s arrow, huh? That means we’ll have to get the skeleton to shoot the creeper on its own,” he said. He leaned against the wall and thought it over. “So one of us leads the skeleton to the creeper and makes sure its firing in our direction so we can direct it towards the creeper. Which means we could either die from the arrows or die from the explosion.” Steve looked up at Herobrine to see if his assumption was correct.

“That would be the obvious course of action.”

“Fuck.”

Herobrine crossed his arms. “It’s not like you’ll be going alone. I’ll be nearby and you’ll have your armor.” Steve averted Herobrine’s steely gaze and nodded.

 “Even so, I don’t like the idea of possibly risking my hide for some music discs. You shouldn't have to worry about some homesick mortal who can barely stand the idea of a fight.”  Steve felt insolent for rescinding Herobrine’s offer for help but couldn't help but think of his presence with the god as a hindrance to whatever Herobrine had wanted to accomplish. The two wanderers could find separate ways to spend their time; who knows, Herobrine might be able to accomplish more without Steve to hold him back. He was about to walk off to his own room when a thick hand came to grab his shoulder. Steve froze in place as Herobrine spoke.

“Steve…what if I made a promise to you?” Steve turned to his friend and listened to his offer, still skeptical.

“If you and I successfully build the jukebox and find some music discs, than I promise –he pauses mid-sentence but forces through the rest-to try to dance in accordance with your mortal customs.” He forced himself to look at Steve, whose eyebrows were now raised.

“Are you serious? Then let’s do it! This’ll be one for the lore books.” Steve jested, his demeanor completely changed. Herobrine rolled his eyes and wondered inwardly if mortals were normally this capricious. Regardless, the change in mood made Herobrine glad and they said goodnight in good spirits.

Steve found it odd that Herobrine was willing to go out of his way to help him with such a trivial goal. He wondered if he had misconstrued the god's motives. Similarly, Herobrine wondered why the miner consciously pushed him away from him. Even if the god himself didn't understand his own motives, it seemed out of character for Steve to not accept an offer made in good faith. 

As they both lay in their beds, the two wanderers wondered if they would ever understand the motives they both kept hidden from each other.


	2. The Search

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hey guys!! here's the second chapter. I finally got a chance to work on it since I was able to miss school for two days. i'll try my best to get the third chapter out once testing is done at my school. don't forget to leave comments and kudos!

In Steve's defense, the plan seemed easier when he and Herobrine first discussed it. It was simple: they would meet in a flattened area (Steve with a skeleton in pursuit, Herobrine with a creeper primed for slaughter) and circumscribe the two monsters. When the skeleton aimed for Steve, it would kill the creeper instead. Afterwards, either of the wanderers would dispose of the skeleton.  
Neither of them had accounted for the weather.  
Steve insisted on wearing his chainmail armor when they started empty-handed, despite Herobrine's protests. He claimed that he'd rather suffer a momentary handicap to his speed than a permanent one to his existence. Herobrine rolled his eyes and decided to let his friend meet his own demise.  
The armor was bulky and stiff; it clung to Steve's underclothes and made it difficult to outrun the skeleton. His footsteps dragged through the waterlogged earth as he went. The arrows went /dink/ against the plate covering his back as he reached the smooth valley.  
Herobrine was waiting for him; he passed by an exhausted Steve and met him with a confident smirk.  
"I can see that your armor is fulfilling its purpose as a wearable paperweight." Steve groaned and made note to kick some mud into Herobrine's eyes before they finished.  
The creeper dropped their first disc of the day after that: a bright green record that plopped onto the ground at Steve's feet. "Who knows," Steve said with a wicked grin. "Maybe this armor is good luck."  
Herobrine returned the gesture in kind as they walked back to base. This must have been the umpteenth time he'd underestimated Steve. If Herobrine had imagined that a mortal would be accomplishing the feats that Steve did on a regular basis before he met his companion, Herobrine would have scoffed. Had Steve changed his perspective that much?  
Mortals have a penchant for this, Herobrine observed. They always seem to defy the odds, no matter their fate.  
After stowing away the disc in a chest, Steve started to shuck off his chainmail armor. "Isn't that your 'lucky armor?" Herobrine asked.  
The last boot came off with a dull shoop when Steve replied. "Yeah, but my shoulders are feeling like shit. I'm changing into something easier to move in."  
He brought out his old leather armor, dubbed "The Rawhide Law of the Land" or "Rawhide" for short. It was old and weathered from one too many repairs in the past but it was easy to move in and recognize. As long as Steve was on his toes, he would have no trouble avoiding arrows.  
Herobrine idly watched Steve put on his armor, distracted by his thoughts of where to locate creepers next. Steve cleared his throat after a minute and asked for some privacy. Herobrine acquiesced and left the room, albeit slightly embarrassed. He had to be careful not to slip up like that again. When Steve finished, they set out again into the muggy outdoors.

 

Time seemed to go slower after that. It was like walking through mud; their movements were identical, looping for what felt like hours. The two wanderers fell into a pattern of sorts: a bright-eyed god curved right, a rugged miner bounded left. Two pairs of tired eyes flickered between each other and two abominations. Needless to say, Herobrine and Steve were starting to grow bored with their dance.  
"If dancing is anything like this," Herobrine said. "Then mortals are far more patient then I give them credit for."  
Steve chuckled, a dry noise that had lost its mirth 3 hours ago. "I'm with you, buddy. Dancing is way better than this, promise." It was enough for Herobrine, so he continued.  
They had acquired half a dozen discs: the bright green disc, a purple and white one, a black one, an orange one, and a red one. Steve's clock told him that there was less than 1 hour till sunset so the two wanderers began to slow their efforts.  
Everything seemed to go well when Herobrine passed Steve on what he hoped would be their last "dance" of the day. He didn't predict that the creeper had other ideas.  
Instead of locking onto Herobrine like the other hundreds of creepers, the phallic bush hissed and turned to Steve. He didn't notice the creeper until the skeleton he was leading absconded from the vicinity. Herobrine barely managed to get to Steve before the creeper exploded more than an arm’s length away from him.  
When the smoke cleared, cold panic seeped into Herobrine's chest when he didn't immediately see Steve. He wanted to call out but words seemed to fail him, stuck in his throat. His bright eyes scoured the terrain feverishly until he settled upon a swatch of cyan in the distance. He released the breath he didn't realize he was holding and ran to Steve's side.  
To say that Steve looked roughed up was an understatement. The explosion had blasted him about 30 feet into the darkened brush on the forest's edge. When Herobrine found him, he was sitting upright against a tree with his head at a strange angle. Steve blended too well into the tree trunk; the front of his body was almost completely covered in ash. Herobrine checked his pulse and found that he was unconscious, another relief. He carefully picked up the miner and started the journey back to base. Herobrine hoped that Steve’s injuries weren't as serious as he feared.

 

Herobrine gently lowered Steve onto his bed when he reached the base. The miner was still unconscious but at least Herobrine was able to hear his breathing now. He carefully peeled off what remained of Steve’s armor and clothes to try and assess his friend’s injuries.  
Large patches of crimson burns and garish bruises marked the tan skin of Steve's torse. Simple cuts that broke the first layer of skin dotted Steve’s entire body. He had no broken bones (which Herobrine was immensely grateful for) but seemed to have suffered a concussion. Herobrine would be able to attend to his companion’s injuries until he could get some more serious help.  
Herobrine bandaged Steve methodically, recalling all the times he had to do so when he was alone. It was strange to be doing it to someone else; it felt almost too intimate, too strange an action, to perform an act he reserved for himself. What made it stranger was that he was doing it while Steve was unconscious. He continued regardless, choosing his friend’s comfort over his own.  
When he lifted up Steve to reach around his back, he heard some mumbled words come from Steve. “’Brine? Is that you..?” His voice was weak but Herobrine could hear the effort in each syllable.  
“Don’t move, Steve. You had a bad accident, but you’ll be alright now.” Steve tried to meet Herobrine’s gaze through half-lidded eyes. Steve's breathed raggedly; he was trying to stay conscious.  
Herobrine told Steve what happened as he finished bandaging up. He recounted how the creeper turned on Steve, how Herobrine wasn’t at his side in time, how the blast sent him like a ragdoll into the brush. He didn’t realize the tone he was using until Steve spoke. “You don’t have to get so hung up on that. I can take care of myself.”  
The god huffed and shook his head. “But it could’ve been worse. Much worse. The creeper could’ve gotten closer and broken bones or it co—“He stopped when he felt a bandaged hand feel for his own.  
Steve looked at him with an odd sincerity, one that made Herobrine’s chest swell with a panic not like the one he felt before. “It’s not your fault,” Steve said. “You couldn’t have seen that thing coming.” Herobrine was about to protest, to say that if he had any idea that would happen, he would rather search the deepest dungeons alone if it meant Steve wouldn’t be hurt because—  
Steve’s laughter brought him out of his thoughts, a stark contrast to the fear Steve must’ve seen in Herobrine’s face. “You worry too much, ‘Brine. You need to realize that I’m gonna get hurt, super powered god by my side or not.” He tried to tighten his grip on what little he held of Herobrine’s hand. “Maybe this whole thing is making both of us soft.” He laughed when Herobrine quirked an eyebrow.  
“I mean, look at us ‘Brine: a miner and a god, waiting out a storm by looking for records. Do you think you’d be doing this because you want to?” If Steve's words didn't upset him, his face didn’t show it. Herobrine could see through that façade, though. Steve was hurting more than he led on. And it wasn’t from the injuries.  
“You should be out there, trying to get back your power. Not stuck with some mediocre adventurer, If you’d even call me that.” Steve sighed, stuck in whatever funk he brought himself into.  
Herobrine wanted to say so much to Steve, too many things that could’ve refuted whatever high standard he held in his mind. How long had Steve believed this about Herobrine? Herobrine didn't realize how much of a burden Steve thought of himself. If anything, it was quite the opposite. When they were together, Herobrine learned more about the world around him than he would have on his own. That thought alone made Herobrine hang his head in shame, that he had forgotten to tell Steve how important he was to him.  
It’s too late just for words now, Herobrine thought. Anything I say now will either be forgotten or dismissed. He won’t believe me. Steve’s hand was still resting in his own, warm and unfamiliar.  
Herobrine entwined his fingers between Steve’s ashen ones, careful not to mess up the bandages. He looked at Steve again; the miner was going to pass out soon, his chest was lifting at slower rate. Herobrine made his move.  
“Steve,” said Herobrine. “I know I don’t vocalize it enough…or ever for that matter, but I want you to know something important.” Now it was Steve’s turn to look confused. Keeping eye contact with Steve, Herobrine brought his other hand to rest on Steve’s and his own.  
“You matter a great deal to me, Steven. I believe that my life would be incomplete, had I not met you,” The hand on top of Steve’s came to his face, an exploratory gesture. Herobrine’s calloused hand cupped the miner’s face; the two wanderers could feel the heat given off from each other. Steve sighed as he relaxed into it.  
“Even if neither of us can completely understand why we are together, I’m glad to be with you.”  
Steve was silent for a moment, trying to process what he could of Herobrine’s words. He held Herobrine’s gaze and, with as much effort he could muster, smiled. And with that, his eyes closed and he sunk into a deep rest.  
Herobrine let go of Steve’s hand and placed Steve’s head on the pillow. He didn't want to leave its warmth but knew that the miner needed some rest. He walked to his own room and attempted to sleep, plagued by doubts and worries that faded into memories of heat and ash. Herobrine didn't dream that night.


	3. The Dance

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all so much for your comments and kudos! I hope you guys enjoy this last chapter and continue you reading my stuff. Enjoy!!

                When Steve woke up the next day, it was already morning, with the sun peeking through the overcast sky into his room. His whole body ached between the singed flesh and used bandages. He felt gross just lying there; he could feel a film of sweat and dirt caked onto his skin.  Steve tried to lean up onto his arms and hissed as pain shot up his shoulders. The more he moved, the more bandages were displaced. Eventually, he finally stood up on his own sore feet.

 

                He managed to stumble into his bathroom and looked at himself before picking up the washcloth he left in a basin under a hung mirror. The crown of his head was wrapped in bandages and ash covered whatever skin was left exposed. Steve carefully undid the bandages before soaking the washcloth and scrubbing himself down. He carefully dabbed whatever burns marked his face. When Steve questioned why he hadn’t used a potion in the first place, memories of last night ebbed into his sleep-addled thoughts.

 

                He was out with Herobrine, looking for something to keep them busy. They were bored out of their minds but they had found something to keep themselves busy.

 

But then, the hissing. The quiet that came too early and too late, both at the same time. Then, something got too close, too hot, and Steve was out. That was what came to Steve’s mind immediately, but he didn’t recall bandaging himself. A low melody quickly dispelled his thoughts.

 

                Had Herobrine already made the jukebox? They hadn’t really discussed when they would build it but Steve found it odd that Herobrine would be working on it without him. He finished washing up and pulled over a clean shirt, biting his lip in pain all the while, before leaving his room.

 

                The main room of the house was lifeless except for Herobrine and the jukebox. The god was on the ground with the contraption, checking its undercarriage to see if everything was set up. When Steve walked up to his friend, he noticed a bright green disc playing in the jukebox.

 

                “’Morning, ‘Brine.” Steve’s voice came out hoarser than he intended and  fell into a coughing fit, pitching forward with a jerk. Herobrine was standing up with a hand on Steve’s back before he could protest. He spoke when Steve was breathing  again.

 

“Are you alright? Does anything feel broken or sprained?” Herobrine’s eyes searched Steve’s face for any signs of further pain or injury. He let himself relax when Steve replied in the negative. “There should be a potion in that chest.” said Steve, pointing at one of the chests across the room. Herobrine retrieved it quickly before handing it to Steve.

 

The ruby concoction flowed down Steve’s throat, melting the soreness in his muscles. The miner could feel the pain flow out of his muscles, tendrils of relief soothing the burns from last night. He sighed in relief at the swift recovery and stretched out his joints. There was still numbness at the end of his limbs but that was a side effect of the potion, so he paid it no heed. He almost stumbled on his way to the pantry for breakfast and got up before Herobrine could rush to his side.

 

*~*~*~*~*~*~*

 

 

“So you worked on this thing all morning?”

 

“Yes. I didn’t know when you were to going to finally wake up so I had to keep busy.”

 

“Fair enough. Let’s see if this thing can play something upbeat.”

 

Steve slid another disc from the chest in his room and handed it to Herobrine. The god inserted the disc and waited until the tune began.

 

The beat was steady with a rhythm that had Herobrine tapping his foot already. Steve smiled wide as he figured out the beat immediately and began moving: stepping side by side, shaking his arms, and doing  a bunch of other movements Herobrine didn’t immediately understand. Steve noticed how Herobrine wasn’t joining him; he was just standing still while tapping his foot, trying to understand what exactly Steve was doing.

 

“C’mon ‘Brine, it’s no fun to dance alone!” Steve pulled a hesitant Herobrine by the shirt and showed him a few steps: bringing one foot forward and back in the song’s swing, swinging his arms in time, even trying to get him to clap while stepping side to side.

 

Herobrine could execute the moves perfectly, he had no difficulty with that; his only problem was that he couldn’t seem to keep rhythm like Steve could. “No, no, not like that. You need to do it in time with the music.” Steve tried to redo the moves but Herobrine shook his head.

 

“This is ridiculous! What aspect of this…activity do you humans find fun?” The god’s brow was furrowed in confusion, trying to dance in time with the music, only to fail and look like an automaton. Steve tried to stifle a laugh for his friend’s sake and shrugged.

 

“Well, it’s fun when you do it with someone else, when there’s good music, when you don’t want to think too much,” Steve said. “I dunno what you’re doing wrong, besides the rhythm.”

 

Herobrine huffed and walked over to the jukebox, yanking out the disc inside and searching for a new one. “Let’s see if this one can play something a bit easier to follow.” Herobrine held up a disc with a purple and white ring in the middle. He handed it to Steve, who slid it inside the jukebox and waited for the tune to start.

 

It was a somber yet languid tune that swam through the airwaves carefully. It was slow enough to follow, interesting enough to dance to. The song piqued something in the back of Steve’s mind, an old memory shut away that he hadn’t acknowledged till now. He had heard something like this before; a foggy memory reminded him that there was a specific dance that went with it. Question was, what was it?

 

The god seemed to like this tune: he was tapping his heel and toe of his shoe on the ground in time with the song. It had a different rhythm that stuck out as more cordial, royal even. The timing was unique as well. Steve kept count in his head: 1-2-3, 1-2-3, 1-2-3…

 

Steve’s eyes widened in recognition.  He knew where it came from!

“I remember this kind of dance,” Steve began, walking into the open space and getting Herobrine’s attention. Steve brought his legs together and held his arms out, one in a semicircle form and the other raised as if asking a question.

 

“At the end of every night, all of the couples would come out and dance to this sort of song.” Steve began stepping in time with the tune, one step forward, another one to the left, moving almost in a circle yet without a sense of direction. The simplicity of the movement fascinated Herobrine as he tracked the miner. Round and round Steve went, letting his eyes slip closed as he let the music take him.

 

Steve didn’t notice that he was being watched until he caught Herobrine staring. The intense look on the god’s face made a lump form in Steve’s throat. He continued talking to fill the lyric-less air between them.

 

“The dance is usually for people who are, uh, in a relationship. The adults would hold classes to teach us how to do it. I think they called it the waltz or something.” The miner scratched the back of his head, not wanting to meet Herobrine’s gaze.

 

“So your people would dance it together?” Herobrine asked. Steve nodded, bringing his arms up in the position he had them in before. “Yeah, pretty much. One arm goes around the waist and the other holds your partner’s hand. It’s really nice.” Steve smiled as he remembered dancing with his first crushes. Those were good times.

 

Herobrine looked pensively at the ground, as though he were deciding something. Steve tried to dispel the silence between them once more and cleared his throat.

 

“If you’re not comfortable with dancing together, we could just put on another disc. “ The god didn’t answer immediately, still gazing at the floor. Steve was about to speak again when the god stood up and held his hand out. Steve raised an eyebrow.

 

“I’d like to dance with you, Steven.”

 

Steve could barely speak. He forced out a single “What?”

 

“You heard me.” The hand was still there, tempting yet terrifying.

 

The disc continued to play as a plethora of questions ran through Steve’s mind. He carefully took Herobrine’s hand and put his arm around the god’s waist. Steve could feel his heat bleeding through his clothes, unfamiliar yet reassuring. “If you insist.” Steve said hesitantly. He gestured to the god to look at their feet.

 

“First, you need to keep your feet parallel to mine. Pretend that you’re my mirror image when we move.” Steve instructed, slowly realizing what he said as Herobrine shifted his feet. _Maybe he won’t notice,_ Steve thought. 

 

“In my position, I’m the one who leads, so you have to follow my movements. When I step back, you step forward. When I step to my left, you step to your right. Does that make any sense?” Herobrine nodded and they began moving.

 

The two wanderers started slowly, one step back, one step to the left, another forward, so on and so forth. Both of their heads were bowed to watch their feet, making sure not to step on each other. Their movements quickly fell in sync and Steve thought it was time to add on to the dance.

 

“Now, we’re going to turn every second step. Follow my lead.” He took a step forward and stepped to the left, but turning his body inwards. Herobrine caught on quickly and mirrored the moves. Step, step, turn. Step, step, turn. _It’s almost as easy as mining_ , Steve observed, _minus the dirt and gravel_.

 

They glided easily to the melody, chest to chest, circling around the room. They didn’t even have to watch their feet anymore. Their eyes met every so often, a connection that made Steve’s head swim.

 

“Steve, can I ask you something?” Herobrine asked, lowering his gaze. Steve tilted his head and nodded. Herobrine seemed to be avoiding his eyes. “Do you remember anything from last night, besides the attack?”

 

Steve pondered the question for a moment before speaking. “ I do remember getting hurt but not bandaging myself.” A small realization dawned on him. “That was you, wasn’t it?” Herobrine smiled and nodded.

 

“I was afraid for your sake. I didn’t know how serious your wounds were, so I patched you up as best I could.” Herobrine frowned again as remembered Steve’s unconscious form, limp as a corpse. “But that wasn’t what I wanted to ask you. Do you remember what you told me last night?” Steve’s expression twisted into a confused look, trying to understand what Herobrine was trying to say. It was obvious that there was something weighing on his mind, something that might’ve troubling him for a while.

 

“I don’t remember talking to you after the attack. Was it anything important?”

 

Herobrine’s face set into a neutral expression. “No. Nothing at all.”

 

Well that didn’t help with Steve’s curiosity. They slowed down but kept moving, not wanting to widen the gap that appeared before them. Steve ventured to find out what it was.

 

“If you’re asking me about it, then it must’ve been important. The real question here is why you’re avoiding the subject now.” Herobrine sighed, realizing that Steve was right. Leave it to him, the only mortal who had ever gotten past every barrier (physical and otherwise) he had brought up , to call Herobrine out on his own bullshit. Herobrine begrudgingly acquiesced to the miner’s suspicions.

 

                “Fine. You asked why a ‘super-powered god’ like me would willingly search for records with a ‘mediocre miner’ like yourself. You seemed to be in a self-deprecating mood, no matter how much I tried to convince you otherwise.” The god averted his gaze once more as he continued. “I don’t suppose you remember what I told you, do you?”

 

 

                Another memory surfaced in the back of Steve’s mind. He could recall the god speaking to him, how Steve was feeling less than worth the attention Herobrine paid him. There was something he was missing, though; something crucial, something to fit the pieces together that would outline what Herobrine was trying to say. Steve didn’t speak for a few long moments, bowing down at their feet.

 

                “Steven, did you hear me?” Herobrine said in a concerned tone. When Steve didn’t respond after a few minutes, Herobrine lifted Steve’s face to meet his gaze. A look of understanding passed Steve’s face in reaction to the hand on his face, _warm and unfamiliar._

 

_“ **You** matter a great deal to **me** , **Steven**. **I** believe that **my life** would be incomplete, had **I** not met **you** ,”_

_“Even if neither of **us** can completely understand why **we** are together, **I’m** glad to be with **you**.”_

                Oh. So that was it.

 

                If Steve had to be honest, he hadn’t expected Herobrine to return the same feelings he shared, especially after hearing the doubts that weighed on Steve’s mind. It was a relief almost, like shifting the weight from his mind to his heart. Coincidentally, it was beating faster in Steve’s chest, rushing blood to redden his face. There wasn’t much left to worry about, after all.

 

                “I think I remember now, Herobrine.” The god’s eyes widened, apprehensive.

 

                “What do you remember now?”

 

Steve grinned.

 

                “Enough to do this.”

 

                The arm around Herobrine’s waist reached to the base of his neck as Steve leaned forward. Herobrine continued to follow Steve’s lead, arching his back slowly when Steve’s face brushed against his own.

 

                Herobrine’s eyes burned through Steve’s violet ones, searching for confirmation, for assurance that the excited beating in his chest wasn’t one-sided. His breath was almost labored, panting after so much turmoil. Steve’s eyes darted between the god’s lips and eyes before Herobrine pressed their foreheads together, breath mingling along their heated skin. Steve took it as a sign and sealed the gap between them with a kiss.

 

                Herobrine hummed in contentment at the connection, bringing a hand up to card through Steve’s hair and pulling him deeper into the feverish embrace. Steve swept his tongue along Herobrine’s bottom lip, sucking experimentally. The god returned in kind by biting Steve’s upper lip softly, sending shivers down Steve’s spine.

 

                The two wanderers pulled away after what felt like ages, eyes locked onto each while they panted. Now it was Herobrine’s turn to kiss Steve, pressing the miner flush against him. Herobrine’s body radiated heat ; Steve felt every contour of his body, solid muscle against his own.

 

Herobrine pulled away from Steve again, only to press smaller, heated kisses along the edge of his mouth, across his jawline, to the tanned flesh of his neck. The god bit and sucked eagerly as Steve moaned at the sensation of teeth and wet warmth, pulling Herobrine closer to his neck.

 

The weight between them shifted when Herobrine leaned closer to Steve, offsetting the miner’s balance. His feet tripped over the god’s, a price to pay for not accounting for the awkward position they had been making out in. Within seconds, Steve was on top of the god, lying on the ground and disoriented by the fall. The legs of the wanderers were tangled together while  still chest to chest, Herobrine’s head spinning after hitting the ground to hard.

 

“Argh...” Steve mumbled, leaning over the god on his knees, trying to assess the damage. Luckily, it wasn’t too bad, just a few bruises. He reached for Herobrine to help him up but was interrupted by the god’s abrupt laughter.

 

“What’s so funny?” asked Steve, beginning to smile as he realized that Herobrine’s laughing was contagious. The god paused to address the miner.

 

“I thought that you said that dancing would be easier than maneuvering around those creatures!”

 

It didn’t take long for Steve to understand what Herobrine was referring to. Within moments, Steve doubled over with laughter, falling next to the god. The two wanderers continued laughing into the afternoon, bonding over their new found connection.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The disc with the waltz is an actual music disc in the game called "mellohi". The first song they listen to was something like this : /watch?v=6ClLnjZ1d1w (skip to 0:45 -1:32). I listened to both songs quite a bit while writing this! I hope you guys liked it \\(ovo)/


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